


Proximity and Separation

by billiethepoet



Series: Proximity and Separation Series [1]
Category: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-03
Updated: 2012-06-16
Packaged: 2017-11-04 19:11:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billiethepoet/pseuds/billiethepoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over twenty years later, Martin and Henry meet again and almost mis-communicate themselves out of the love of their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to chess_ka for her beta skills and letting me ramble all my Martin/Henry feelings at her. :)

“Martin?” Their new client’s voice is high, and a bit squeaky. He’s crossing the tarmac with Carolyn, but Martin can’t see him clearly. The sun is shining behind them, keeping his face in shadow, but those ears! _Good God, those ears._

The pair draw closer and Martin knows, absolutely knows, he recognizes the man. _Remember his name, remember his name! He knows yours! It’s something short and simple, traditional._

“Hello, Dave,” Martin squeezes out with a hesitant smile. The man’s smile dims and his gaze sinks to the ground. _Shit! Wrong name. Apologize, quickly!_ “I’m so, so sorry. That was.. ah. That was the wrong name...” 

Mercifully, Carolyn cuts off his stuttering. “Martin, this is Henry Knight. Henry, this is my very forgetful and foolish pilot, Martin Crieff,” Carolyn’s teeth are bared and Martin’s not sure who’s in more danger, him or Henry. “But you seem to know that already, don’t you?” 

“Um, yes,” Henry clears his voice and it seems to return to a more normal pitch. “Yes, but it’s been a long time. It’s alright that you don’t remember me.” His line of sight is now buried firmly in Martin’s chest and it doesn’t look as though eye contact is going to be happening anytime soon. 

_And now I’ve so completely upset a client that he won’t look at me and we aren’t even in the plane yet. New record. But maybe I can save this._ “Yes, yes, it’s been a long time,” Martin tries to get Henry to look at him. “Ah, exactly how long has it been?” 

Henry glances up and makes eye contact with Martin again. It only lasts for a moment before he’s staring off at the horizon just beyond Martin’s shoulder. His voice isn’t as high or quite as squeaky this time but he does sound rather far away. “About twenty years or so.” 

_Twenty years? Those ears! Oh, God, of course._ “Henry! Henry Knight from flight camp at the West London Aero club!” Martin is practically stumbling over himself in his glee to let Henry know that he does remember him. 

Henry’s eyes snap back to Martin’s and his smile is bigger now, almost stretching from one ridiculous ear to the other. “Yeah, that’s right. From the flight camp.” 

A knot forms in Martin’s chest. He has made this man, who is apparently important enough to hire MJN to take him to Frankfurt for the day, so happy just by remembering him? Martin’s not used to having that kind of influence on people. It feels rather good. 

“Sir, went to flight camp?” And, of course, Douglas arrives just in time to ruin it all. 

“No, no, I didn’t go to flight camp. I was there as --”

Henry cuts him off before he can finish the truly embarrassing end of that sentence, “He worked there. He was like a volunteer. He said he just liked being near the planes.” Henry is still beaming at him and now it’s Martin’s turn to look at his shoes. 

“Volunteered, did he?” Douglas’ voice oozes charm and Henry has no idea of the blush spreading across the back of Martin’s neck. “Seems the start of a lifetime habit.” 

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it? It’s good to have something you’re so passionate about.” Henry’s still looking at Martin. He can feel it even though he refuses to look up, refuses to make eye contact because he’s sure Henry must know, must have figured out what Douglas was implying. 

“I am very passionate about running a business, gentlemen. So, if this little reunion is over, I’d very much like to get you on your way to Frankfurt, Mr. Knight.” Carolyn steers Henry toward GERTI’s cabin and Marin finally lets his head come up. Henry’s still smiling at him over his shoulder as Carolyn pulls him away. Still smiling, but looking a little sad too. 

_Great. The only person who’s been happy to see me in months and I’ve put him off in less than two minutes of conversation. Perfect._

********************

“Flight time from Fitton to Frankfurt is just over an hour and we’ve.. um.. been in the air for about 20 minutes so we should be landing in 40 or 45 minutes. The weather is nice, it’s good, um.. Frankfurt is cool but sunny. You shouldn’t need a jacket... um, right.” Martin clicks off the cabin address system and rests his face in his hands. 

“Just go back there and talk to him.” Martin can hear the smirk in Douglas’ voice without raising his eyes from his hands. _If I don’t look up, maybe he’ll go away._

Martin’s bad luck holds and Douglas only waits a beat before adding, “It’s obvious he’s barmy over you so just get back there and talk to him.” 

Martin raises his head enough that his eyes peek between his fingers. “He not.. he’s not barmy... he’s not anything over me.” Martin drops his hands back to GERTI’s control yoke and forces himself to look at Douglas before continuing. “He was just excited to see someone he recognized. That’s all.” 

“Really?” Douglas’ voice drips with sarcasm. “Do young men often fall over themselves to talk to you after a twenty year absence, Sir?” 

Martin can feel the tell-tale flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck. “He wasn’t falling over himself to talk to me. He was just... just excited to see someone from flight camp.” 

“Ah, yes, flight camp.” Douglas jumps on the new topic like a dog on a fresh scent. “When did Sir go to flight camp anyway?” 

Martin sighs. Better to have Douglas mocking his teen years than focusing on the man currently traveling to Frankfurt. “I didn’t actually go to flight camp. My parents... I couldn’t go to the camp for my age group but they let me volunteer to tell the younger kids about the planes and so the people who actually ran the camp could go off and do other things.” 

“Where your love of volunteering your aviation related services first took root. How touching.” 

Martin’s jaw clenches. This is exactly the topic he’s hoping to avoid while the man from his past is sitting in GERTI’s cabin. _The extremely attractive man from his past._ Henry Knight had certainly grown up nicely from the spotty 11 year old Martin now remembered. 

Douglas’ voice cuts into Martin’s memories. “And why do you think our charming client is so enamored with you? A fetish for altruistic older men perhaps?” 

“I’m not that much older!” Martin’s complaint pitches several notes higher than his normal voice. “Probably only 2 or 3 years older than he is. I really wasn’t old enough to be working there, even if it had been a real job.” 

“But now all parties are of an age and interested.” Before Martin can voice another hollow protest that Henry is most decidedly not interested, Douglas presses the button activating the cabin address system. “Good afternoon, gentleman. We have approximately twelve minutes before we begin our descent into Frankfurt. And that means the Captain is absolutely not needed in the cockpit for at least eight minutes. In those eight minutes, he will be making his traditional walk round the cabin to check on the comfort of our guest. And do remember to compliment him on the lovely shade of red he’ll be turning as he tries to ramble out a decent conversation.” 

“Douglas!” Martin rasps out just as the first officer clicks off the microphone. 

“Stop your whinging. I’ve watched you waste that uniform for years and it’s time you got out there and earned it.” Martin makes no move to leave the cockpit but his face is already turning red. Douglas pushes him from his seat with a few final tuts of annoyance and Martin has no choice but to face Henry Knight.

********************

Henry is seated in the second row of seats, knees tucked up against his tray table and looking confused. Martin’s feet feel like they’re made of lead. _What am I going to say? Oh, God, don’t sound like an idiot._

Martin stands in front of Henry for at least ten seconds, his mouth opening and closing silently. Henry finally speaks up. “Do you really come to the cabin on every flight to check on your passengers?” Henry clears his throat but his next words are still a bit high pitched and squeaky. “Or are you just making fun of me?” 

“No! No, I’m not making fun of you. Of course not. Why would I make fun of you? If anything Douglas is making fun of me.” Martin’s panic ratchets up a notch when he realizes that Henry’s eyes are cast downward and a flush is spreading up his neck. He rushes to explain further. “Douglas thinks it’s hilarious to put me in awkward situations. Not that talking to you is an awkward situation. It’s just that I’m terrible in almost any situation and I ramble and it doesn’t make any sense...”

Henry is looking up at him now, with a small smile on his face. “I don’t think you’re awkward. You can’t be that terrible in all situations. You’re a pilot! That’s what you always wanted to do.” Henry looks a bit sad at that last bit and Martin suddenly feels too tall standing over the seated man. 

Martin drops into the seat across the narrow aisle from Henry and manages to bang his hip into the armrest. “I am a pilot. I’m a captain but I’m still rubbish at... well, almost everything else.” _Keep talking! Don’t let him ask questions about MJN and about being captain. He’ll be disappointed that this is where I ended up._ “But you must have done something really great if you can hire us to fly you to Frankfurt.” 

Henry shakes his head. “Not really. I’m just headed there for the day to take care of some business from my father’s estate.” 

Martin is horrified. _His father’s just died and you brought it up._ Martin begins to stammer out an inelegant mix of condolences and apology but Henry waves him off. 

“It was a long time ago, before flight camp even. It’s... It’s better now.” Henry smiles, not as brightly as he did on the tarmac, but it’s enough to make Martin’s breath catch. They sit in silence for a few moments and it’s nice. Shockingly comfortable. 

“Well,” Martin clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck just to have something to do with his hands. “I need to get back to the controls and, um, bring the plane down. I mean, land. Land the plane.” 

He’s up and moving toward the cockpit before he hears Henry call his name. “Martin? Since we’re both in Frankfurt for the night, maybe we could get dinner together? We could... could talk some more.” Henry licks his lips nervously and Martin is touched that this man would be so anxious about asking him to dinner. 

Martin forces himself to look back over his shoulder. He can feel a blush spreading across his cheeks and hopes that Henry doesn’t notice. “Yeah, that would be great. Dinner’s great.” 

Henry’s smile is back full force when Martin turns and rushes to the cockpit. _What have I gotten myself into?_


	2. Chapter 2

Martin meets Henry outside the much nicer hotel he’s staying in. The MJN crew is holed up in a run down bed and breakfast near Frankfurt’s train station. It’s all sex shops and brothels on that side of town. Henry’s staying in a four star establishment much closer to the city centre. But the walk between the two only took twenty minutes or so and the breeze was cool so Martin doesn’t mind. 

Henry’s already waiting outside when Martin arrives. He looks distinctly relieved when Martin stops in front of him. “Hello! I was afraid you weren’t going to come.” Henry’s hands are stuffed in his pockets and his shoes scrape a small stone along the pavement.

Martin reflexively checks his watch. “Am I late? I’m sorry. I thought I left plenty of time to get here.”

“No! You’re fine. You’re early. I just... I just wasn’t sure you could make it. That’s all.” There’s a few moments of silence between them, not as comfortable as it was on the plane but Martin’s been in worse. More importantly, Martin doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence with pointless babble. He’s happy to just stand in the early Frankfurt evening with Henry and enjoy the sound of the city. It’s Henry that breaks the silence. “I thought we could walk down to the Alstadt. I’ve heard that there are nice restaurants near there.” 

Martin looks at Henry’s hotel and thinks that Henry’s definition of a nice restaurant is going to be far above Carolyn’s per diem allowance. But he never goes out to dinner, he never goes anywhere with friends, and he can dig deep to cover the difference between what Carolyn will reimburse and what he’ll actually spend. If he’s careful. He nods and follows Henry down the street.

They end up at a small biergarten on a side street from the old city centre. They’re able to tuck into the end of a long table of American tourists. The restaurant is relatively quiet and the lights are low. Henry’s smiling as he looks over the menu and Martin’s stomach drops to his knees. _This is not a date. It’s just better than eating alone. For both of you._

Henry doesn’t talk to him as he looks over the menu and Martin can only stand silence for so long. “Did your... um... business go well?” As soon as it’s out of his mouth, Martin regrets how unprofessional it is to ask a client about the details of his personal business. 

Henry shrugs. “It’s not really a lot of business. Just some meetings I had to come to in person. I’ve got another one tomorrow morning before we head back to Fitton.” Mandatory, in person, international business meetings sound like the epitome of success to Martin but Henry’s voice makes it clear he is not excited by the prospect. Henry keeps talking, sounding a bit rushed. “I’ve never liked traveling in a crowd of strangers so I thought I’d just charter my own plane. And then I found you. Found MJN, I mean.” Henry flushes right to the tips of his ears. “I didn’t know you were their pilot when I booked. But I’m glad. Glad you got to be a pilot, anyway.” 

Henry looks like he’s just talked himself into the most mortifying corner of his life. Martin knows that look. He’s felt it on his own face at least twice a week since puberty. Martin’s prepared to swoop in and save Henry from his own awkward conversation. He knows he can think of just the right thing to say: something charming, casual, and, well, just perfect. But he’s Martin Crieff and the universe is never that kind. Before Martin can force out whatever doubtlessly uncomforting thing that springs to his tongue, they’re interrupted by the waitress. 

Orders are placed. Small meals, a salad for Martin and a pasta for Henry, and no alcohol for either of them. Martin is pleased that Henry doesn’t ask him to explain why he would come to a German beirgarten and just drink sparkling water. The answer is as much about regulations as it is about the company. He wants to be completely clear headed and remember all of this. He also doesn’t want to accidentally say something he may regret later. 

When the waitress sidles away, Henry is still embarrassed. His ears aren’t red anymore but he’s not looking directly at Martin anymore either. “It must be nice to be able to charter your own plane,” Martin bursts out. Not exactly the perfect thing he wanted to say but at least Henry’s looking at him again. “I work with people who charter their own planes all the time. Obviously. I’m the captain for a charter airline. But they’re often much older and much less...well, not as nice.”

“I thought everyone was nice to the captain.” Henry’s smile is teasing and Martin prays that Henry thinks the blush across his cheeks is from embarrassment. 

“You’d be surprised how often rich people think they can be rude to everyone, even people in positions of authority. Oh, God, not that I think all rich people are rude. I don’t think that. I don’t think you’re rich, at least not rich like that. Not rude, I mean.” Martin takes a drink of his water just to keep himself from babbling on.

But Henry’s still smiling. “It’s alright. I am rich and most rich people are knobs. I try not to be. But I didn’t do anything to earn my money. It’s all from my Dad. You really did something though. You did what you always wanted to do. That’s way better than just managing someone else’s money your whole life.” 

Martin knows he should tell him. Tell Henry that he hasn’t really done much either. That the only reason he’s a captain is because he agreed to work for free. This is most definitely not a date and they’ll probably never see each other again, so it shouldn’t be so hard to tell the truth. Instead Martin says, “It can’t be all bad. You’ve got the ability to do whatever you want and not worry about making ends meet. You can do anything.” That was a bit closer to the truth than Martin was planning, actually. 

“Yeah, I’m getting there.” Henry looks a bit sad but also happy, in a way. Martin smiles and wants nothing more than to hug Henry tightly. Their food arrives and the conversation dies down as they tuck in. 

On the walk back to Henry’s hotel, he asks some questions about GERTI and Martin makes a point to keep his answers short and sweet. 

Martin remembers too late that Henry’s going to be flying on GERTI tomorrow morning and may not be as confident after having some of his questions answered. “But it’s not that she’s a bad plane! Just a bit old, and a little run down. She’s safe! I promise. I always make sure she’s safe.” 

Henry’s been smiling since they left the restaurant and it doesn’t fade in the face of Martin’s less than reassuring comments. “It’s fine. I like something that’s a bit broken. The best things are held together with gaffer tape and hope.” Martin thinks that’s probably closer to the truth than Henry was planning to say too. But he likes it. Likes that he and Henry can have a real conversation even if they don’t want to admit it to each other yet. 

They’ve reached Henry’s hotel and he turns to Martin to say goodnight, but Martin interrupts him with a nearly shouted, “I move boxes.”

“What?” The smile has faded a bit now in the face of confusion. 

“I do removals, when I’m not flying. To make money.” That’s most of the truth anyway. 

Henry’s smile perks back up a bit. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” Martin’s never heard so bland a response to his confession before. 

“Yeah, okay. You’re doing what you love. Lots of people have to have two jobs. It’s fine.” Martin wants to kiss him right then, but this is still not a date. Instead, he waves goodnight and turns to walk to his own hotel. 

When he flops down in his bed, with Arthur snuffling away happily a few feet away, Martin thinks, _that certainly felt like a date. Was probably the best date I’ve ever had._

********************

They get through the flight early the next afternoon without incident. Douglas keeps his teasing to a minimum and doesn’t force Martin into the cabin again. 

Before coming to the airfield that day, Martin wrote out his email address and mobile phone number on the back of one of MJN’s business cards and tucked it in his pocket. He’s been running his fingertips around the edges of it all afternoon. He’s going to give it to Henry and then they can go get drinks and be friends. It wasn’t this hard when he asked The Other Martin for drinks. It shouldn’t be that different but Martin already knows that it is. He just has to convince himself that it isn’t any different. 

After they land, Martin jumps immediately from his captain’s chair (missing Douglas’s smirk entirely) and positions himself at the cockpit door. He has the card out of his pocket before Henry’s pulled his bag from the overhead compartment. 

Henry stops in front of him on his way off GERTI and looks at the card expectantly. 

“It’s my email and mobile number. If you’d like to talk to me again. We could get dinner or coffee or something...” Martin tries to thrust the card a bit forward but Henry’s already taking it from his hands. 

“Great. Great. That’d be lovely.” Henry flashes him a quick grin and is off the plane before Martin can say anything else. 

Douglas chuckles behind him but Martin doesn’t care. This is brilliant. 

********************  
Less than thirty minutes later, Martin’s filing away the completed flight plan after wrapping up the post-flight procedures when his phone vibrates in his pocket. 

**From: 07438913162**

**It’s Henry. I wanted you to have my number too. I had a really good time meeting you again. I hope we can get together again soon. :)**

Martin’s glad he’s the only one left in the MJN office because he’d never be able to convince Douglas that this was an ordinary text message. His face would give him away. He saves the contact quickly but doesn’t respond right away.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next two weeks, Martin and Henry text often. Not as often as Martin would like, but often enough. Martin’s beginning to think that he could spend all of his free time talking to Henry. He tries to remember not to text Henry first, to just wait and reply, but sometimes he can’t help himself. Last Thursday, he texted Henry a picture of a family of ducks waddling across the airfield in front of GERTI. Martin hasn’t fallen quite so far that he’s texting “Good morning!” when he wakes up but it’s not far from his mind. 

Martin hopes, because Martin always hopes, that Henry had meant something more with their dinner in Frankfurt, but Henry keeps his texts short and casual. Sometimes just a one line comments about his day or something amusing that happened. A couple pictures of ridiculous things Henry’s seen, but nothing that indicates any interest. Martin knows he really has no reason to hope. Henry’s nice, and handsome, and rich, and could never really be interested in Martin. Friendship with Henry is far fetched enough.

Martin’s almost beaten down any remaining, traitorous hope. He’s almost convinced his heart not to jump quite so high when his text message alert sounds off, or his stomach to drop when he remembers how brightly Henry smiles. Both of those body parts fail to listen to his careful instruction when he gets a text in the middle of a moving job. 

**From: Henry Knight**

**How are you today? I’m coming to Bristol for a week. It’s for work, sort of. I can tell you all about it when I see you. Dinner Friday?**

Martin nearly drops the box of porcelain cat figurines he’s balanced on his shoulder. Bristol is less than an hour away. He’s going to see Henry again. 

********************  
Friday comes much faster than Martin anticipated. They agree to meet in Bristol, at a pub Henry’s picked out. Martin’s gone through several outfits, trying to find something nice but not nice enough for a date. _Because this isn’t a date._ He ends up wearing the outfit he would probably wear on a date anyway: his best pair of jeans and a short-sleeved light white button up shirt. 

Henry’s already at the pub when Martin arrives, with a pair of sweaty pints on the table in front of him. Martin walks to the side of Henry’s booth without him noticing. Martin waits a beat, then clears his throat. Henry jumps but is smiling, broad and bright, when he sees it’s Martin. 

“Hello Martin,” Henry says, still smiling from one ridiculous ear to the other. There goes Martin’s treacherous heart again, jumping right into his throat. 

“Hi.” Martin slides onto the bench across from Henry. He has planned for this. He spent the last two days thinking about what to say to Henry to make their conversation less strained. Martin even practiced out loud on his drive to Bristol. “So, what’s this sort-of-work in Bristol?” Martin actually manages to sound casual. His practice paid off. 

“Actually, it’s thanks to you.” Henry’s fingers trace a drop of condensation down the side of his glass. He pushes the second drink toward Martin. “I’ve never had a proper job, just a year of an apprenticeship and that didn’t go very well. But things were different then. I wasn’t as together then as I am now. And I’m not saying that everything’s fine now either, but it’s just better.” 

Martin’s suddenly glad Henry ordered him a drink. He feels like he needs one. Martin isn’t flying tomorrow and he can handle one beer before heading back to Fitton. He takes a grateful pull from his pint. The alcohol probably won’t help his confusion in the long but, for now, it tastes good. 

Henry takes a drink of his pint in time with Martin. The glass clunks back on the table and Henry seems better collected. “When I was in uni, I loved architecture. I was mad about it. After my apprenticeship, I went back and got my Master’s degree. Mostly because I didn’t know what else to do. But since then...” Henry looks a bit sad, and Martin still doesn’t quite understand, but he wants to comfort Henry. Martin doesn’t even know why, but he definitely wants to comfort him. Before he can come up with a properly reassuring response, Henry speaks again. “I haven’t done anything. Haven’t done anything I love, haven’t done anything to be proud of. But you’re a pilot and you work so hard at it.” 

Martin’s speechless when Henry raises his glass in a salute. He clinks his glass to Henry’s on autopilot, but he doesn’t take a drink. “Are you saying that you’re here to be an architect because I’m a pilot?” 

Henry’s smile is back full force. “Sort of, yeah. I’ve got a job interview with a firm here this week. More like an audition really. I’ll do some design work in their office a couple days during the week and then have a final evaluation on Friday.” Martin still isn’t quite sure what Henry means. The confusion must show on Martin’s face because Henry’s smile changes. It becomes softer in a way that makes Martin’s heart beat faster. “You inspired me.” 

Martin is speechless. No one has ever cited him as a source of inspiration. He had inspired Henry to restart his career and now Henry was here applying for a job in Bristol. Martin covers the moment he needs to compose himself by taking another drink of his beer. The liquid pushes down the lump forming in his throat. “It took me seven tries to get my CPL.” Martin doesn’t know why he says it, only that’s it’s important for Henry to know why he shouldn’t be a source of inspiration.

Henry looks bemused, but not disappointed or angry. “Is that a lot?” 

If there hadn’t been a table between them, Martin would have kissed him. Instead, he takes another drink of his pint to calm the butterflies in his stomach. “Yeah, it is rather a lot. Most pilots pass in one go, maybe two.” Martin taps his fingers nervously on the tabletop. “I’m probably not who you should be looking to for career inspiration.”

“But that’s exactly why!” Henry’s hand slides toward the middle of the table but stops several inches from Martin’s nervous fingertips. For a moment, Martin thinks Henry is going to take his hand and a well of happiness bubbles up in his chest. Even though Henry’s hand stops before it comes close enough to touch, Martin’s face lights up. “I gave up before I even had a job. And I know it wasn’t all my fault. I... I was going through a lot and I couldn’t handle it.” Henry looks down at the space between their fingers but doesn’t move forward. “After my Dad died, things were bad. And they stayed bad for a long time but I solved that problem and I’m not going back.” 

“Henry...” Martin starts, but he doesn’t know what to say. _Just take his hand! You can touch him. It’ll be fine._ But Martin’s fingers stay stubbornly in place. 

“No, it’s fine. I wanted to tell you that. I wanted you to know about me.” Henry’s smiling again and Martin is relieved. “So let me buy you dinner to thank you for helping me get back on track.”

Martin starts to protest, saying that he can buy his own meal, that Henry doesn’t have to, but Henry looks so happy. Martin gives in. “Alright, but only if I can buy next time.” 

Henry’s eyes light up. “Yeah, you can buy next time.” Martin knows he’s truly lost now. 

*********************  
Martin gets back to Fitton, back to his tiny attic room, way too late on Friday night but he’s so happy, it doesn’t matter at all. 

He drives back to Bristol on Saturday. He and Henry have lunch in a cafe (Martin buys) and walk in the park. Henry bumps his shoulder as they walk and Martin sometimes thinks he can feel the back of Henry’s hand graze his. 

On Sunday, Henry meets Martin at the Duxford Air Museum. They walk together and Martin explains as much as he can about the planes, about flying, and Henry doesn’t look bored at all. Martin is sure Henry’s deliberately pressing his knee to Martin’s as they sit on a bench outside the museum, neither of them willing to end their day together. Martin presses back. 

Martin is flying to Monaco on Monday morning and not returning to Fitton until Wednesday afternoon. He keeps telling himself that it’s fine. Henry is going to interviews, to meetings, and working on his portfolio for the architectural design firm in Bristol. And friends don’t have to see each other every day. But it’s the first time he can remember not being completely happy in the air. 

When Martin lands in Monaco, he has three text messages from Henry. It’s just bits of information about Henry’s day and how he’s doing in his interviews, but it makes Martin light headed. He feels remembered and important. Important to someone he thinks is important too. Martin can’t pretend he isn’t falling hard for Henry. _But it’s just a friendship and it’ll eventually end so there’s no use in getting too worked up about it._ That thought doesn’t keep Martin from maintain a near constant text conversation with Henry until he arrives back in Fitton. 

Martin doesn’t make plans to see Henry on Thursday. He’s picked up a van job that he can’t afford to turn down, though he’d consider it if Henry asked but Henry doesn’t ask. Martin tries not to be too disappointed by that. 

He’s sitting down to an exciting dinner of plain pasta, his arms and legs sore from heaving a ridiculously large sofa around, when Henry’s text message comes in. 

**From: Henry Knight**

**My evaluation is tomorrow. Will you come to Bristol to help me celebrate or help me drown my sorrows? I’ll cook you dinner in the extremely inadequate kitchen of my rented flat.**

Martin responds before he has a chance to properly picture Henry cooking him a meal in some tiny rented flat. Just the two of them, talking about their week, curling up on the sofa together... That sense of comfort, of belonging, is all Martin really wants. And he wants it with Henry. 

But Henry is just his friend. His gorgeous, charming, lovely friend. But Martin will take what he can get.


	4. Chapter 4

Martin arrives at Henry’s flat a few minutes late. He stopped to pick up some wine on his way to Bristol and it took longer than expected to pick the best looking label for under £10. Henry’s rented a cheap flat for the week rather than staying in a hotel. It gives him more privacy and he feels safer that way. Martin feels anything but safe as he knocks on the door. His stomach is in knots and his palms are sweaty. He spent all day, and most of his nearly sleepless night, thinking about what he wants and how he can go about getting it. Martin is determined to tell Henry that he wants this to be more than a friendship. It’s already too painful not to tell him that. 

Martin’s too far inside his own head to notice that he’s rung the doorbell. Henry’s quick to appear and pulls him back into the moment with that ear-to-ear grin that melts Martin’s kneecaps.

“I brought wine. It’s red.” Martin says as Henry ushers him inside. He raises the bottle up so Henry can see the label he painstakingly picked out for its picture of a very classy medieval knight and nearly knocks Henry on the chin with it. 

Henry laughs and pushes him down the hall into the rest of the flat. “Red will be great with the chicken.” 

The flat is much nicer than Henry made it sound. It’s much, much nicer than Martin’s attic. There’s a small living room with a TV and a sofa. Henry’s laptop is open on the coffee table, the screen glowing lightly. There’s also a small dining room table and two chairs near the doorway to the kitchen. The kitchen doesn’t seem inadequate to Martin; it’s not really big enough for two but it’s clean and everything seems to be working. The smell from the collection of pots and pans on the hob is wonderful. There’s a closed door off the opposite side of the living room that must lead to the bedroom. 

Martin stands in the doorway to the kitchen and watches Henry twist the cap off the wine (and Martin really should have checked that detail when he was looking at labels). He starts to stutter out an apology for the wine but Henry’s pressing a glass in his hand and talking over him. 

“I’m not a great cook but I’ve been on my own for so long that I’ve managed to pick up a few things. It’ll be edible. Promise.” Henry sounds nervous and he’s waving his hands around more energetically than usual. He goes back to stirring something in a large pot and doesn’t touch his own wine. Martin puts his down on the counter too. He can only have the one glass and drive back to Fitton tonight so he needs to be careful how quickly he drinks it. 

“Is there anything I can help with?” Martin already feels a sense of uselessness creeping in and he’s only been in the flat for five minutes. 

Henry hums and looks around. “I think I have everything well in hand here. But the music’s stopped. Can you restart the playlist on my laptop?” He nods his head toward the computer sitting on the coffee table. 

Martin makes it several steps across the room but stops cold before reaching the laptop. The screensaver has kicked on and there’s a picture of Henry and another, very handsome, young man smiling together. Their heads are pushed against each other and Henry has his arm looped around the other man’s shoulders. The picture slides off the screen and another one replaces it. It’s the same man. This time, he’s sticking his tongue out as if he’s going to lick Henry’s ear. Henry’s laughing, eyes screwed tightly shut, and mock pushing him away. _Oh._ Martin’s heart cracks from end to end. 

“Is that your boyfriend?” His voice is hollow, almost lifeless. The shock of realizing that he was right all along, that Henry has no interest in him because he already has someone better, leaves Martin cold. 

Henry’s standing next to him now, watching as the picture changes again to another shot of Henry and the other man. “My boyfriend? Martin, how could you...” His voice trails off and Martin chances a look in his direction. Henry looks confused, bordering on angry. 

_Oh no. I’ve misunderstood everything and really put my foot in it this time._ “I don’t mean boyfriend-boyfriend. I don’t think you’re gay.” Martin tries to laugh but the sound bubbles pathetically out of his throat. 

“But I am gay.” The confusion is quickly overtaking the anger in Henry’s eyes. 

Martin is getting more and more lost in the conversation by the second. But he’s suddenly overwhelmed with the need to tell the truth, as if somehow that will clear everything up. “I’m not gay!”

“What? Why are you with me if you’re not gay?”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Martin realizes he needs to backtrack and explain. “No, no, no. I mean, I like men. But I like women too. I really like just about anyone. No! I don’t mean just anyone. I just mean that I don’t care if the person I like is male or female. No, that’s not right either. I care, I just don’t... Oh God.” Martin sinks onto the sofa and puts his head in his hands. 

Henry sits next to him, deliberately keeping several feet between them. “You weren’t really going out with me were you? I thought that you understood. That you were someone who could be interested in me.” Henry sounds as miserable as Martin feels.

Martin can fix this. He knows he can fix this. He’s landed GERTI in a strong crosswind and tricked his way out of stickier situations. The surge of confidence allows him to pull his head from his hands and look Henry in the eye.   
“I didn’t know you wanted me to be interested!” That comes out a bit squeakier than Martin had intended. “Attractive men don’t normally chat me up and ask me out on dates. I thought you were just being nice because we knew each other as children. But I am interested. Very, very interested. I’ve been interested all along.” 

“It was because of flight camp, a bit.” Henry’s looking back at him, but still sounds too miserable for Martin’s comfort. “You were so patient and kind, even back then, that I thought you... that you wouldn’t...” Henry takes a steadying breath. “I thought that you could want to be with me even knowing that I have problems. I’ve tried to tell you a bit about them without being overwhelming, but they’re... not good. I have nightmares, I have panic attacks, sometimes I can’t --”

Henry’s stopped talking because Martin’s kissing him. He’s not sure when he moved, but all his mind and heart wants to do is reassure Henry, to make Henry feel wanted, and his body takes over. Both Martin’s hands are fisted in Henry’s shirt and Henry’s lips are warm and dry against his. After a few moments, Martin pulls his mouth away from Henry’s and rests their foreheads together. 

“I do want to be with you,” Martin says quietly, afraid that either of them could spook at a louder sound. 

Henry lets out a sound somewhere between an “oh”, a laugh, and a sob. Then Martin is pushed backwards and Henry is clambering over him. He settles straddling Martin’s lap and melds his lips to Martin’s once again. Henry’s fingers scratch through Martin’s curls and Martin’s hands come up to grasp Henry’s waist. Their kiss is not as chaste this time. Martin’s mouth opens under Henry’s and he wants to feel the slick heat of Henry’s tongue and the warm press of his lips forever. 

Their kissing doesn’t last forever. All too quickly Henry is scrambling over Martin, leaving him slouched halfway over the arm of the sofa, as he runs to the kitchen. Martin takes a few seconds to even out his breathing before following. When he makes it back to the kitchen, Henry’s standing over a ruined pan of chicken and a pot of burned rice. 

“I may have lied about dinner being edible.” Henry’s lips quirk upward and Martin laughs with relief. “We can just order a curry.” 

Martin leans on the counter next to the oven, surveying the ruined dinner. “That might be safest for everyone involved.” 

Henry steps closer, so his knees are pressed against Martin’s. “We did this a bit backwards didn’t we? Are you supposed to eat dinner first, then have the embarrassingly emotional conversation?”

“I planned to confess my feelings for you tonight and was convinced you’d throw me out on my ear. But turns out we’ve been seeing each other for how long? A week? Three? That’s embarrassing.” 

Henry nudges Martin’s legs apart so that he’s standing between them and plants his hands on the counter, one on either side of Martin’s hips. “Did you really not know that I thought we were together?” 

Martin has no choice but to laugh at himself. He’s dizzy with relief and joy. “No. I avoiding thinking that you could really want to be with me. It was too good to be true.”

Henry’s still smiling but his voice is more reserved now. “We can start again. The past three weeks don’t have to count. It could be like a dress rehearsal.” 

“No! I want them to count. Since I met you again, it’s been wonderful. Some of the best times of my life.” 

Henry kisses him lightly and much too quickly. “Good. I want them to count too.” He steps back, pushing off the counter and away from Martin. “Now, let’s order a curry and finish that bottle of wine in celebration of my new job.” 

Martin is instantly horrified. “Oh God, I didn’t even ask you about your evaluation. I am rubbish at this boyfriend business already.” Martin can feel the rush of warm across his cheeks at the word “boyfriend”. 

“Well, ‘job’ might be a bit optimistic. They’ve offered me some consulting work that I can do mostly from home, in Dartmoor. Just to see how things go at first.” Henry takes his hand and leads him from the kitchen. “And you’re not rubbish at being my boyfriend. You’re the only proper boyfriend I’ve ever had.” 

“What about Mr. Soulful Brown Eyes and Dazzling Smile on your laptop?” Martin isn’t secure enough yet to resist the jab. 

Henry’s eyebrows shoot up. “He was never my boyfriend. Just a good friend. You’re really not worried about that now, are you?”

Martin thinks _Yes, I’ll always be a bit worried about that_ , but manages to just shake his head instead. 

Henry’s pulling on his hand again. “Right. Take away first, then wine and more talking.” Henry stops his forward motion but keeps hold of Martin’s hand. “And, would you like to stay the night? We don’t have to do anything. We can go as slow as you’d like. But, I’d just like to spend as much time with you as I can.” 

Martin quickly blurts out a “yes!” but Henry keeps talking. “It’s alright if you don’t want to. I do still have nightmares sometimes and they can be... unsettling.” 

Martin uses their joined hands to pull Henry to him. He wraps his arms around Henry’s ribcage and squeezes while pressing a kiss just above one of those ridiculous ears. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll stay with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a porny epilogue to go, folks!


	5. Chapter 5

After take away curry, there is more wine- enough to turn Martin’s cheeks and Henry’s ears a matching shade of red. With the wine, there is more talking. Talking about planes, and buildings, and how often Martin can drive to Dartmoor, and how often he’ll pick Henry up from the train station in Fitton instead. There’s more kissing too, and a bit of wandering hands. 

After the wine has been drunk, they tuck their giggling selves into Henry’s rented bed. The bed is much nicer than Martin’s used to, but definitely not built for two though he’s not sure they’d have slept much farther apart if they’d had the space anyway. Martin sleeps peacefully with an arm wrapped around Henry’s waist. More importantly, Henry sleeps peacefully too. 

Martin wakes, not long after sunrise, to Henry pressing warm, dry kisses to the side of his neck. They’ve turned in their sleep so Henry is now curled against Martin’s side, with an arm across his chest and one knee lying on his thigh. Martin hums in his throat and turns his head to give Henry more skin to explore. He keeps his eyes closed. 

“Sorry,” Henry says between kisses laid along his jaw, “I’ve always been an early riser.” 

“I’m not complaining.” Martin certainly won’t complain if this is how he’s going to be waking up when he spends the night with Henry, no matter what time it is. The thought of him and Henry spending the night together again and again, and waking up together the next morning, makes Martin’s stomach flip-flop. 

Martin turns his head quickly and catches Henry’s lips. Well, more the edge of his mouth and the beginning of his cheek. Henry moves his head to bring them fully together. The pressure of their closed lips pushed together makes something at the back of Martin’s skull buzz and come to life. His tongue slips out and slides along Henry’s bottom lip. 

Henry pulls back. “Sorry, I haven’t brushed my teeth.” 

Martin goes from completely content to embarrassed in less than five minutes of consciousness. It must be a new record. “I’m sorry, should I..?” He makes a move to get out of bed, to fix his mistake of instigating kissing before brushing, but Henry pulls him back. 

“No. It’s fine. I want you to stay.” Half of Henry’s face is hidden in Martin’s shoulder, but he can tell Henry’s smiling. Martin’s beginning to tell the mood of Henry’s smiles and this one definitely falls in the “mischievous” category. “And you don’t have a toothbrush here anyway.” 

Martin groans. _Does that mean no more kissing? Because I definitely don’t want the kissing to be over. Maybe I could just use some mouthwash._

Henry’s moved on to trailing kisses along the section of his collar bone exposed by the neck of his t-shirt, and that feels far too nice to consider giving up the kissing. Martin’s about to ask if there is any mouthwash and if that would be an acceptable compromise when Henry kisses him on the lips again. Henry pulls back too quickly for Martin’s comfort. “I don’t mind if you don’t mind. We don’t have to worry about brushing our teeth.” 

“Thank God,” Martin breathes out as he pulls Henry to him. They kiss, sometimes lazily, sometimes with more passion, for several minutes. Martin feels like he’s floating. His limbs feel heavy and he can feel the sticky warmth of Henry’s body along his side even through their layers of clothing. Martin manages to snake an arm under Henry’s shoulder. His hand skids up Henry’s back, on the outside of his t-shirt, and pulls him even closer. Henry has to extend his leg farther over Martin’s thighs to accommodate the pressure on his back. 

They keep kissing and Martin grows bolder, sliding his hand up the back of Henry’s shirt. Henry answers by working his fingers under the bottom of Martin’s t-shirt. The palm of his hand comes to rest on Martin’s stomach, which definitely increases the interest Martin’s feeling in other parts of his anatomy. With Henry against him from lips to ankles, he can feel how interested Henry is too. 

Martin’s hand travels from Henry’s waist to his shoulder and back, over and over again as they kiss. Henry’s leg moves farther across his and Martin’s still trying to pull Henry closer. Their combined efforts end up rolling Henry on top of Martin, with his knees around Martin’s hips. Henry has one hand planted by Martin’s head for balance and the other scratching through the coarse hair below Martin’s navel. Martin’s hips jump up and his cock pushes against Henry’s. 

Henry sits up, finally breaking their kiss. His shirt is rucked up around his armpits. He pulls it off and Martin’s jaw drops. Henry’s stomach is flat and the outline of his muscles stands out. His shoulders and biceps look thick and strong. Martin slides his hand from Henry’s back and traces his fingertips along the muscles of Henry’s chest. 

“This alright?” Henry’s voice is quiet and his hand presses Martin’s flat against his chest. 

“Yeah...” Martin is breathless. This is far better than just alright. Henry’s gorgeous. 

Henry rocks his hips forward, bringing their cloth-covered cocks in contact again. “This alright too?” 

Martin grabs the back of Henry’s neck and pulls him down for a kiss. He keeps his hips canted upward so he doesn’t lose the feel of Henry nestled there. Henry’s hands are pushing his shirt up and then sliding along the exposed skin of his sides. 

Henry sits up again and tugs Martin’s shirt up. “Now you. Off.” Martin raises his shoulders just enough to let Henry pull the shirt off over his head. He’s unwilling to attempt any motion that could unseat Henry. 

Henry stays upright, drinking in the sight of Martin’s bared chest. Both his hands roam across Martin’s stomach and up to his shoulders. One hand runs back down to rub against the dusting of blonde hair on the flat of Martin’s chest. A finger follows the center of Martin’s chest all the way down across his hairless stomach to where the blonde hair starts again and quickly turns a bright ginger just below his navel. Henry follows it until it dips into the waist of Martin’s pants. 

“You’ve got so many freckles. It’s going to take me forever to kiss them all.” Henry bends down and gets to work on that promise. Henry starts with the freckles that wrap around Martin’s shoulders. He moves downward across the freckles on Martin’s chest. Martin is pretty sure he doesn’t actually have any freckles leading from one nipple to the other but he’s certainly not going to argue semantics now. 

While under Henry’s assault, Martin’s only been able to squeeze and tug at Henry’s waist. His fingers dig in as he feels the muscles of Henry’s sides twist and contract. As Henry’s mouth slides lowers, Martin’s hands do the same. His thumbs find the hollows of Henry’s hips through the cotton of his pants and begin massaging slow circles there. The circles move inward until Martin’s fingers are nearly brushing Henry’s cock. 

Henry rocks forward, rubbing their erections together, and moans against Martin’s chest. Without giving himself time to think about it, Martin palms Henry’s cock through his pants. He feels hot and hard and there’s a damp patch on the cotton. Martin’s hips surge up again, bumping Martin’s cock against the back of his own hand. 

Henry sits up again and Martin freezes, unsure if he’s about to be told off or not. But Henry pushes his hand all the way into Martin’s pants with a mumbled, “You too. Want to touch you too.” 

“God, yes.” For a moment, when Henry’s hand closes around his cock, Martin’s vision whites out. He feels Henry pull the front of his pants down and feels the cool air on his cock and balls but the only thing he’s focusing on is the stroke of Henry’s hand up and down his shaft. 

Martin’s hand is still held against Henry but that’s not enough contact anymore. Martin tugs at both sides of Henry’s pants until they are stretched around his thighs. Martin just looks for a moment at Henry’s newly exposed cock. It stands out hard, strong, and thick. Martin can feel his mouth begin to water. He’s pulled out of his reverie by a particularly fast twist of Henry’s wrist near the head of his cock.

He takes Henry in hand and tries to match the rhythm Henry’s using on him. It gets harder to focus with each stroke. Luckily, Henry’s using his position to thrust into Martin’s hand. Martin sinks into the coil of bliss rolling low in his belly and the sight of this absolutely gorgeous man, who genuinely likes him of all people, rocking and writhing on top of him. Martin’s never seen anything so erotic in his life. 

Henry’s fingers go slack around Martin and his hips move faster. “Martin...Martin.. I’m going...” 

Martin tightens his grip and focuses on moving his hand, desperate to bring Henry over the edge. Henry’s hands grip Martin’s hips and his eyes are squeezed shut. Martin strikes his previous thought about most erotic sights from the record. Martin brings his other hand to his own cock and begins to stroke, trying to match what he knows he likes on Henry. 

Henry thrusts again and lets out a low moan. The first smatterings of Henry’s cum land across Martin’s abdomen and the second shot paints Martin’s cock. 

“Oh Christ!” Martin gives the base of his cock a hard squeeze and then lets go entirely, his hands flying to Henry’s hips as he comes. 

When Martin’s done twitching, Henry collapses on top of him, careful not to bring their stomachs together to create a bigger mess. He presses light kisses on Martin’s cheeks until their breathing goes back to normal. 

Henry sits up across Martin’s thighs again but doesn’t bother to adjust his pants. “Sorry. I probably should have asked or something before... before I did that.” Henry motions to the combined mess of semen on Martin’s belly. 

“No! No. It’s fine. Really, fine.” Martin’s not quite ready to admit the feeling of Henry coming apart over him, on him, is what really pushed him into orgasm. It’s a bit early in the relationship for admitting that sort of thing. Henry spends a moment just looking at him. Martin definitely feels naked, but not exposed. At least not in the way he thought he would with a mostly naked man straddling him and examining the aftermath of their first time together. All in all, he’s quite comfortable like this. 

Henry bends to kiss him lightly on the lips and then rolls off. He entwines their fingers as they lie side by side. 

The silence doesn’t last. Martin quickly blurts out, “How did you get so...so...muscley!?!” 

“What?” 

Martin just waves their joined hands in the general direction of Henry’s upper body. 

“Oh. There’s not much to do in the country when you’re unemployed except sit-ups and push-ups.” 

“I move boxes regularly and I don’t have any muscles.” Martin knows it’s unattractive to pout immediately after really great sex, but he can’t help himself. 

Henry raises their hands and kisses the back of Martin’s wrist. “You’re gorgeous. And besides, I don’t have any freckles. I should be the jealous one.” Henry rests their hands on his chest. 

They stay like that, just lying together, until Martin begins to feel cold and sticky. 

“I’d get cleaned up but I don’t even have a toothbrush.” Martin doesn’t register the ridiculousness of that statement until Henry starts laughing. It’s warm and kind and doesn’t make Martin feel stupid at all. 

“Tell you what. I’ll get you a spare toothbrush for my house in Dartmoor.” Henry’s looking at him now and still laughing a bit.

“Okay, I’ll get you one for my shoddy attic.” Martin is grinning because this is his. He can have this. 

“Make it green. I like green.” Henry doesn’t get to say anymore because Martin is kissing him like he never intends to stop.


End file.
